Again.
Not that I’m complaining. I don’t think I’ll ever live in one place for very long. There’s just too much to see. So many interesting people still to meet.
There’ll be more on that I promise. More cathartic ‘blogging’ to inflict on whoever stops by.
Today though, I started to pack my books away. As the little piles formed on the floor, I realized it was a much more interesting experience than I had anticipated.
For one I would definitely say my favourite type of books are travelogues. I love travelling. Among a few other things that bring me to the threshold of pure, serene joy is travelling. And when I can’t travel for one reason or the other, I travel through someone else’s experiences. Not as good. But still good.
Though inspite of being cleaved to Connecticut by the sentence of residency, I was still lucky to have some fairly amazing trips!
One of my other loves is languages. I wish I could learn more. Because each new language you learn opens up a new place to you and better still, lets you meet people you would never would have otherwise. I came across some of my old books from Spain….can’t say I’ve had chance to work through them here in Connecticut.
And for some odd reason, I tried to learn Italian and Russian during residency. Well, maybe Italian isn’t so weird. But Russian? I’m not sure what I was thinking. I didn’t get very far again on either count. Somehow residency didn’t lend itself to predictable hours or time to oneself to do something that needs discipline like learning a new language.
Yes, I confess to owning books on eating smart and then on exercise routines. Well, the South Beach diet I bought in a lame attempt to solve the fact that I had become a fat a*s at the end of first year. I didn’t make it a week. And then I decided to get off afore-mentioned pudgy bottom and join the gym. And that paid off, I’d say!
Fiction’s ok at times. Terry Pratchett is a favourite. And yes, the next confession. That is a Harry Potter book under there. What? Don’t pretend you haven’t read them too.
My random pile. Because I’ll read anything. The back of a box of cereal. An ad. I’m not, I hope, a pretentious reader. But sometimes, I’ll pick something up to see what all the fuss is about.
The pile I’ve read the least from. I don’t know if that’s significant of something. Probably. Sigh.
These three years of residency, I felt a lot of who I ‘was’ was put on a shelf. Things I loved I couldn’t do as often. As I looked through my books , it was good to remember what those were. And remember it’s possible to take them up again.
